Crimson
by Tabithatibi
Summary: Crimson splashes of blood freckled the pearly-white snow all around her, a slight breeze causing her hair to flutter. Dry poppy stalks rattled together at the edge of the field, as if in mourning to the motionless girl.   Intrigued? Then read on! Tabs :D


_Hi! Yes, it's another Violet and Quigley oneshot, but, hey: I live for 'em. :) _

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Crimson

Crimson splashes of blood freckled the pearly-white snow all around her, a slight breeze causing her hair to flutter. Dry poppy stalks rattled together at the edge of the field, as if in mourning to the motionless girl.

From the trees that bordered the field there came a great commotion; birds swarmed up from their perches into the sky, leaving the trees swaying and creaking. Barely a moment later a boy came staggering into the open, holding on to a branch for support. His face was pale and his eyes dark and wide. A thin cut slashed open his bottom lip, making it stand out red and raw against his skin. After a brief pause in which all was silent, he looked up across the field and drew in a sharp, ragged breath. Pushing himself away from the trees, he flung himself into the field, running awkwardly towards the girl.

Reaching her, he fell to his knees, and with a trembling hand, he brushed a lock of silky hair away from her face. She was pale. Far too pale. Her skin had an ivory-gleam, and when he rested his fingers against her cheek, he found it deathly cold. A choked sob escaped from his mouth and he bowed his head over her slim form.

A pretty black lace dress clung to her body, ripped at the waist, where blood fringed the tear, and in her loosely grasped fingers a long, deep purple ribbon stirred in the breeze.

Slowly, he found his mouth forming words, though their meaning was lost to him. All he knew was that a deep, burning pain was coursing through his body, making him want to lash out at something, anything. Breathing faster, tears pouring down his face, Quigley Quagmire slammed his fist into the ground, sending up a small flurry of snow. Wildly, he glanced around. Why had nothing changed? Blindly, he slammed his fist into the ground, again and again, making his hand ache. He could hardly see now, so blinded was he by his grief. Everything swirled around him, and all of a sudden he was screaming her name.

'_Violet! Violet Baudelaire, come back! I … _' his words trailed off into tears and he pressed his forehead to hers, cradling what he could of her in his lap, and grasping on to her hands, rubbing them fiercely.

What had he expected? A miraculous recovery? Had he thought she'd just leap back into life and stop being so utterly dead? None of it happened. Her eyes remained closed, her ruby-red lips slightly open. She was beautiful, he thought, even in death.

A few new flakes of snow began to fall, landing in Violet and Quigley's hair. Quigley looked grimly ahead, clutching Violet to him in an attempt to keep her warm. His tears had frozen on his face and his eyes were now glazed and expressionless.

He did not know how long he knelt there, Violet's head in his lap. So he did not know what time of day it was when he felt a very faint stirring from Violet. He blinked rapidly, staring down at her. The faintest flush of colour had appeared on her cheeks and slowly her eyes flickered open, though they were unfocused and tired.

'Violet! But, you were dead, you – you didn't move, you – '

Violet smiled weakly, already beginning to let her eyes close, 'But … Quigley … did you … even check ... my pulse?'

Quigley bit back a sob of relief as he gripped her tightly. It was a moment before he realised her eyes were closed once more.

'No! Don't go, I've only just got you back, Violet! I need you here, I – I love you,' he cried out desperately. Blearily, Violet looked up at him. The slight smile was back.

'I'm not going … to die. Not now, not ever. Now come … closer.'

Quigley bent his head to hers, and listened, eyes squeezed shut with tears as she spoke faintly to him.

'Very … lovely … indeed.'

A single tear fell from Quigley on to Violet's cheek, and with slightly more strength, she reached up and touched his face with long, white fingers. Through his tears, Quigley gave a shaky grin. Maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn't going to leave him.

_You hit the ground running and you lose your breath. You're bruised and cut and you feel terrible. Then you get up and carry on. That's what being in love is._

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_There! What did you all think, hmm? :) Oh, by the way: VIOLET DOES NOT DIE! I WOULD NEVER EVER EVER KILLL VIOLET!_

_Tabs :D_


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